“That’s fine, pretty girl,” I assure her. “Eventually, though, right?”
“What’s the point? What’s the point in any of this?” she asks.
“What’s the point in what, baby?” Leo asks, and dread sinks into my chest.
“Anything!” she explodes. “You live, you die. What’s the f*****g point of all the hurt in between?” She stands from the seat. “There is no point.”
She goes to leave the room, and I jump over the back of the little couch, sliding in front of the door, blocking it so she can’t leave. Her eyes narrow to those tiny, scary little slits.
I hope she isn’t armed.
“Move,” she warns, her tiny fists balled up. I knew what she could do with those fists; her dad and Micah taught her every fighting style.
“I can’t do that, pretty girl,” I tell her, and her whole body stiffens.
“What?” she
